


reunion

by terrible_titles



Series: The After Life [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bisexual Character, Complicated Relationships, F/F, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7219876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrible_titles/pseuds/terrible_titles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow's re-appearance in Buffy's life is somehow even more complicated than she anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	reunion

Buffy swung her legs out, studying the scuffed toe of her right boot. If she were ever made of money, she’d buy boots that would never scuff. Or pay people to scuff out the scuffs. Something like that.

A shadow descended on her view. “They’re very pretty,” Faith said, shifting a bag to her other hand.

“Did you get it?” Buffy asked, and arched an eyebrow up for effect.

Faith sighed. “Shampoo and cereal,” she said.

Buffy grabbed the bag from Faith and dug around until she found the red bottle. She popped open the cap and sniffed. “It smells like pineapples,” she said flatly. Then she lifted the box of Cap’n Crunch peanut butter cereal. “And this is not a sufficient replacement for my Cheerios. I _knew_ I shouldn’t have listened to you. ‘Just wait a minute and let me pop in here, B. You’ll only slow me down musing over which shampoo goes best with my hair type’—”

Faith laughed and slung an arm over Buffy’s shoulders, pulling her to her feet. “Relax. The important things is, I have my own shampoo, and you have a brand new breakfast food to try. The possibilities are endless.”

Buffy grabbed Faith’s hand on her shoulder sullenly, but only held onto it. “Fine. If you start cleaning up after yourself, I’ll accept your weak cereal replacement. Though if we were going the unhealthy route, I would have rather had donuts.”

“What can I say?” Faith shrugged. “I’m a cereal gal.”

Buffy gasped. “Blasphemy.”

*

Rummaging around a newly-cleaned fridge, Buffy recognized her own hypocrisy regarding the cleanliness of things and Faith’s willingness to participate. But for her, throwing things in cabinets and under rugs had always been good enough. As long as an area looked clean when you stepped into it, it was. But Faith had done a good job cleaning out the kitchen while Buffy healed from her last injury, and Buffy was gaining a new appreciation for being able to find what she was looking for in less than half an hour.

“We should totally do this to the rest of the place,” Buffy said, popping back out victoriously, a slice of cheese in hand.

Faith turned from her lettuce and tomato-slicing duties. “Should ‘we’?” she said.

“Yeah. Some spring cleaning.”

“It’s fall.”

“So it’s a little late.” Buffy shrugged. “Better late than never.”

“You need a job.” Faith turned to grab the loaf of bread beside the sink and paused.

“Faith?” Buffy asked.

Faith dropped the kitchen knife and picked a stake out of her side pocket, throwing it to the side towards Buffy. Buffy caught it, dropping the cheese. “What do you think, B?” she said, grabbing her own stake and charging ahead. “Up for a little exercise?”

Vamps were stalking the outside of the apartment complex. Great. The last thing Buffy needed after losing her job was to get evicted too. She made her way down the stairs two at a time, coming up to meet a larger hoard of vamps than she had anticipated.

“What are you guys doing out so late?” Buffy said. “Don’t you know there are monsters lurking about?”

A guy in front revealed an arrogant grin. “Lady,” he said, “we are the monsters.”

Faith began laughing hysterically—God, she loved her—and threw her stake at the chatty vamp. It was a true throw, but didn’t result in anything, as Buffy expected. Apparently, every vamp in this town had that knock-off immortality these days.

“Looks like you’re going to have to try harder than that,” the vamp said with a grin, yanking the stake out. The flesh grew back over the ugly wound instantly, nothing but smooth skin underneath a torn black skirt.

But Faith was still chuckling. “Waste of a stake,” she told Buffy, “but I had to.”

Then they were off, sprinting across the cleanly cut dark green lawn and straight into a hoard of immortal vamps, impossible odds. Just like the old days. 

Buffy had recently re-started an exercise regime. Even when she had retired herself, she had to keep up a cardio routine every day. She was simply too full of energy; she would have gone nuts if she didn’t at least run a couple miles. It was nothing like her intense and focused routines from before, though. The first time she sneaked out before Faith woke for a workout at the local gym, she nearly felt ashamed of herself, like she was giving in against her will. Persuaded to come in for “one last case,” as the cliché went in those 80s cop movies.

But Nan and the immortal vamps—and most of all, Faith—required a slayer at her peak. And Buffy had to admit, spinning a kick and trusting it would go squarely into the jaw of some teenage punk with a pretty bracelet was a rush that no run to shake out the excess energy could ever give her.

The satisfaction of a dusting had been taken out of the equation, though, and it left Buffy floundering. She could kick the teenager back, rear around and deliver a nice gut blow to the girl behind her, but they wouldn’t die. Ten immortal vamps versus two slayers weren’t good odds—they could wear her and Faith down, eventually—and nothing clever was coming to mind, except that a nice meat cleaver to slice through some wrists would be handy right about now.      

But right then a voice—nearly like a meat cleaver—rang through the fighting, “ _Release_.”

A bright red flash of light came from the left, streaking through the vamps like a bolt of lightning. Buffy stepped back from it, one arm coming up to shield her eyes, but the light was gone by then, followed by the loud clanking noise of several bracelets hitting the ground.

Faith recovered from the shock more quickly than Buffy or the vamps, just a whirl of curly brown hair past Buffy’s vision as she dusted a now more mortal vampire. The others began to flee, though Faith managed to stake another before they were gone.

All the while, Buffy turned her head, very slowly, to the left. It was not surprising, though it was terrifying, to find Willow there.

*

Buffy knew awkwardness. Willow knew awkwardness.

Surprisingly, it was Faith who couldn’t shut up.

“So, we want to head in now, right?” she asked, tossing a bloodied stake from hand to hand as she looked from Buffy to Willow. “I mean, not that it’s overly chilly or anything, but I could use some coffee. Nothing like a nice cup of coffee after a slaying, right, B?”

That wasn’t really true. It was just adding jittery energy on top of jittery energy, and Faith knew that. But it was better than standing several yards apart from a lanky redhead shrouded in shadow.

“Yeah. Sure. Let’s go,” Buffy said, gesturing towards the lonely apartment complex. It wasn’t too late yet, but she noticed all the other rooms had curtained-off windows, so their small vampire battle hadn’t gone unnoticed. Good to know she had intelligent, if not exactly forthcoming, neighbors.

Faith led the way, sandwiching Willow in the middle, and continued rambling. “Thanks for saving our tails out there. I mean, not that I couldn’t use the workout, but it’s a bummer when there’s no endgame in sight.”

The moonlight showed the slightly sardonic curve to Willow’s lip. “Yeah, sure.”

In the kitchen, Faith made coffee. Faith never made coffee. Buffy raised an eyebrow as she set a mug in front of Willow and Buffy at the table, then went to fetch her own. She made some quick excuse Buffy didn’t take in before disappearing from the room.

Because as much as she wanted to, Buffy couldn’t take her eyes from Willow. It had been five years, and yet there were things about her that were so familiar, and yet strange. Her features seemed sharper, as if age had given her an edge, but the intelligent gleam in her gem-like eyes was always the same, always so alive.  

“Have you gotten taller?” she asked. “Because you seem…” Buffy waved her hand.

“I don’t know,” Willow said, curt. “Maybe.” She looked down at her mug. “Probably also cut my hair a few times. Is this really what you want to talk to me about?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Buffy admitted. 

Willow stared back but her face was nearly unreadable to Buffy, and she didn’t know if it was because Willow had changed so much, or Buffy had forgotten how to read her, but both of those thoughts made her despair. She blinked and stared down at the dark bitter liquid between her hands.

“Faith called,” Willow said, but Buffy already knew that, and she wasn’t really sure she could handle her feelings about that particular event yet. “She said you—” Here, Willow hesitated and it felt familiar. “She said you needed me.”

Buffy looked up. Willow’s eyes were focused intently on her.

“I do,” Buffy admitted. “We both do. We have some crazy stuff going on here. Immortal vampires, sun amulet supply ring, a witch who wants revenge on Faith…” She paused. Willow’s expression had not changed.  

Finally, Willow took a sip of her coffee. “Are you going to ask?”

“Ask?” But Buffy already knew, and flinched when Willow sat her mug down heavily on the table.

“ _Dawn_ , Buffy. Are you going to ask about _Dawn_?” Willow’s face was pinched in anger, and Buffy remember that too. “You know the sister you left behind? Because it’s one thing to abandon your friends, but you _do_ remember how you left a sixteen-year-old girl behind to fend for herself in the aftermath, don’t you?”

Buffy felt her eyes sting and looked down, clasping a hand over her mouth to still herself.

Willow paused and let the tension release from her expression. Then, softer, “I get you needed some time. But it’s been _five years_ , Buffy. And, well. I know, I mean, I _knew_ we weren’t going to the mall the next day. I _knew_ everything would be different and hard. But when you said it, I thought what you were really saying was—” Here, her voice began to crack. The edge in her features softened, just a bit. “We’d still be together.” She brushed at her cheek. “I spent five years wondering, and now I want to know: what _happened_?”

The chair scraped rudely against the linoleum of the kitchen floor when Buffy got up. Her mug wasn’t anywhere near empty but she re-filled it anyway, just to have something to do, just to put some distance between her and the sad girl at her kitchen table.

She wanted so badly to ask how Dawn was, but she couldn’t get the words out. Instead, she placed her cup down and stared at it. What happened to the Willow who would just know what and when to tell her everything she needed to know? Because that Willow was gone, lost to years Buffy had already thought were empty before she fully understood loneliness. She clenched her fists over the lip of the counter.

“The days became months became years…” Buffy heard her small voice before she realized it and turned back around. “And before I knew it, I was too ashamed to ever come back to you guys.”

The way Willow’s face could twist into that utter despairing sadness was unfair, but it was at least comforting in its familiarity. “I just wish you had come back at all, Buffy. Because for five years, I thought maybe you would. I think Dawn and Giles gave up. I know Xander did. But _I_ always thought—no, I _knew_ —you’d be back. You always came back, when you figured it out.”

Buffy leaned against the counter, one hand on the mug, one hand holding her weight. “I’m so sorry—”

Will stood up. “But instead, I get this call from Faith. Not even you, but _Faith_ , saying you guys need help even though _you_ can’t even be bothered to call me.”

Buffy sat her coffee down. “It’s not like that, Will,” she said firmly. “You can’t possibly believe that’s why I couldn’t call you.”

“What can I believe?”

“You always do this! You always make everything I do about you. Look, I’m _sorry_ I couldn’t bring myself to come back, or to call, but you don’t know how hard it’s been. Wait!” She held up a finger before Willow could protest. “I know how that sounds. You don’t think I’ve lived with how that sounds for five years? For twelve, really? ‘Oh, woe is me, I have superpowers and a duty to humanity.’ I live every night with that whiny voice in my head, and the other one, mocking me constantly, wondering what’s wrong with me, why I’m like this.” 

Her voice cracked on the last words and she slid to her knees, shocked at how suddenly the word spun out of control, how deep the wounds in her chest felt now that they were open. And then Willow was in front of her, kneeling before she could register much more than the searing pain in her lungs, bringing Buffy’s head to her chest, rocking her despite her own shaking shoulders. Buffy reached out and clung on hard to Willow’s elbows.

And it was still wrong and broken, but it felt nearly like she was holding onto something tangible again.

*

“Xander is doing well,” Willow said. “He’s helping to put Dawn through college. She moved out of Giles’ place and stays in the apartment over Xander’s garage when she’s not with her boyfriend or study groups.”

Buffy’s head reeled with questions made even worse by the intense headache from her breakdown earlier. Did Giles take over Dawn’s care after she left? Of course he did. He had been picking up her slack for years. And Xander with a nice house and a fancy garage apartment; how did that happen? What was Dawn studying at college? She settled with, “Dawn has a boyfriend?”

Willow smiled, a sweet mischievous grin Buffy didn’t think would ever come back after Tara. When had she gotten it back? “His name is Ryan, and he’s an adorable geeky thing that is simply head over heels for her. You’d love him. He’s a TA for my intro class now.”

Buffy placed her chin in her hands. It was late; the time on the clock said 3:20, but she wasn’t sure she had changed that on the last daylight savings. Or the time before that. Still, she didn’t feel tired, despite the fact that Faith’s too-strong coffee had gone cold hours ago. “You must love teaching.”

Willow’s smile brightened more. “I really, really do. I was lucky to land this post-doc; I get to do plenty of teaching and research.” Then she reached to take Buffy’s hand and Buffy could only stare at it—the smooth lines she once knew as well as her own—as if it were a giant spider inexplicably bent on world destruction. “Please tell me what happened to you, Buffy.”

Buffy shook her head, re-focused again on Willow. “I don’t know,” she said softly, hoarsely. “I don’t think I ended up nearly as well as you guys.”

“It wasn’t all good. After you left, we all—well, Dawn especially—”

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. “I know I messed up so badly I will never be able to make it right,” she whispered.

Willow hesitated. “Do you want me to ask her…?”

Buffy shook her head furiously, suddenly terrified. “Doesn’t she hate me?”

Willow refused to meet her gaze or answer, which was proof enough for Buffy. Finally, she changed the subject. “So… Faith?”

Buffy blinked, confused for a brief second, and then couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “Oh, right! Yes, uh, that’s a thing, I guess.”

Willow nearly looked concerned. “How long?”

“A… week.” After a pause, Buffy continued. “She showed up with no place to go about a month ago. I don’t even know how she found me. The next thing you know.” Buffy shrugged. “It’s nice, though.”

“Nice?” Willow ventured. “What is it? Just a casual, hook-up thing? Because Faith seems to—”

“I don’t know what it is,” Buffy interrupted, smiling a little. “All I know is that is seems easy. Comforting. Like pie.”

“Pie?”

Buffy nodded. “Really good pie.”

Willow frowned.

“What, you don’t approve of pie?”

“No, no, I—” Willow held out her hands. “I totally approve of whatever pie you want. Pies change. Pies can be good. Just—uh, it’s not my place, and I may be totally off-base here, but it just seems to be me that, well, you guys may not be in the same place, uh, concerning your feelings about… pie.”

Buffy didn’t quite know what to make of that.

Willow cleared her throat. “Just, uh, be careful with the easy thing. Easy things aren’t always good things.”

“And hard things are sometimes necessary things.” Buffy wrapped her hands around her mug again. “Like calling the others. Even if…”

“Even if.” Willow nodded.

*

Willow wanted to do some reconnaissance of her own with a laptop, a bag of herbs, some ceramic bowls, and Buffy’s kitchen table, so Buffy left her to it and laid down. It wasn’t soon after, in that drowsy before-sleep state, that Buffy heard Faith come in. The faded low tones of Faith’s voice were too hard to understand, but she could make out a few of Willow’s forced, too-high cheeriness. Then it became a more hushed type of conversation before Faith finally made her way to bed.

Faith slid out of her pants and underneath the covers like a stealthy cat, curling up to Buffy’s warmth with long limbs. Buffy sighed a little and turned towards her.

Faith paused. “I thought you were asleep,” she said, almost apologetically.

“No,” Buffy said, her whole being suddenly very relaxed. “This feels nice.”

Faith came in closer, wrapping Buffy up in a tight embrace as she kissed her ear, her jaw, her lips.   

“How did it go?” she asked.

“As well as can be expected,” Buffy answered. She pulled herself closer to Faith, further under the covers, though she wasn’t very cold. “It was a lot of awkward, a lot of crying, some interesting information about Dawn’s boyfriend, and ended with another healthy dose of awkward.”

“You’re not peeved at me?” Faith’s voice was casual, but she shifted a little, as if uncomfortable.

And it took a minute before Buffy could answer, but she finally shook her head. “No. You warned me, in your own way, several times. And I haven’t been forthcoming about the details. I get why you thought we needed them. Willow, definitely.” She yawned. “How did that even go, anyway, calling her?”

“We’re on decent terms these days,” she said.

“‘These days’?” Buffy sat up. “What does ‘these days’ mean?”

“I mean, we’re not best buds but I’ve seen her and the others around—”

“You’ve _seen_ them around?”

Faith lost her casual demeanor quickly. She was like a cat; she could go from lounging to attack posturing in a matter of seconds. “What’s the deal? You may have retired, but I didn’t, and none of them have lost sight of that either. It just makes sense those lines open, you know? There’s an apocalypse waiting around every corner.”

It occurred to Buffy then that she really didn’t know anything about what Faith had been doing for five years. She had guessed it had been roaming around like a vagabond, but apparently, it was more in the realm of vigilante.

She looked down at her hands pressed firmly into the brown and green patterns of her comforter and felt all of the anger drain out of them. She had no right to that anger. She had kept Faith at arm’s length, like she did everyone; of course Faith wouldn’t have been forthcoming with details she thought Buffy wouldn’t want to hear.  

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Faith blinked, and her confusion would have been funny if it hadn’t just made Buffy feel worse.

“I have no right to be upset,” she continued. “I was just shocked, but—”

“You never asked.”

Buffy closed her eyes. “I never asked.”

The silence was long and uncomfortable, but Faith finally sat back down. “It’s too late for this. I’m beat. Let’s just sleep.”

“All right, yeah,” Buffy said, crawling back under the covers, but when she turned over she found Faith with the covers shoved up over her, facing the wall.

*

The next morning, Buffy woke early, despite going to bed at an ungodly hour, and set to work preparing pancakes. It had been ages since she’d made them, probably since she’d last made them for Dawn, but she figured it was much like riding a bicycle and slaying vampires. It sticks with you.

Willow was passed out on the couch; Buffy could just see the bright red of her hair. She looked down quickly, concentrating her efforts on the mixing of the batter. She had made disasters out of all her personal relationships, which was funny when a month ago she didn’t think she had any personal relationships left to ruin.

Vanilla. She forgot vanilla.

Standing on her tiptoes, she reached for the top shelf. Just as her fingers touched the bottle, Faith swooped in behind her and grabbed it.

“Need this?” she offered.

Buffy took the bottle carefully. “Thank you.”

After she had added the vanilla and continued mixing, Faith leaned against the counter. “Is Red out for the count, then?”

“Must have stayed up for a while after I went to bed,” Buffy said. 

An awkward silence ensued. Buffy added butter to the hot pan and let it melt, then scooped in some batter.  

“So what, we’re just gonna pretend last night wasn’t a thing?”

“I’m making pancakes, Faith,” Buffy said, gripping the spoon far too tightly.

“I don’t want a peace offering, B. Hell, are we even arguing? I just want to—”

She felt it building in her and knew it was wrong, knew it was stupid before she even did it, but she whirled around anyway, batter splattering onto the counter as she did. “I am _busy_ , Faith, so can you _please_ leave me alone?”

The hands didn’t even go up, which surprised Buffy the most. It was like Faith had chosen to leave herself defenseless. She just nodded, muttered something like, “Cool, whatever you want,” and disappeared back down the hall.

Buffy sighed and leaned over the stove. Then, a voice behind her: “You guys make it really hard to sleep in here.”

“Will,” she breathed.

“I think your pancake’s burning.”

“Damn it!” Buffy slammed the spatula down and shoved away from the stove.

Willow’s eyes went wide with her patented, “You’ve gone nuts but I’m not going to say anything” expression. She moved to take Buffy’s place at the stove and chucked the burning pancake before pouring another.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re interested, but I did find some stuff about your amulet.”    

Buffy turned on the faucet, bent over the sink, and splashed water on her face. “Yeah, and?”

“And they just don’t make them like they used to,” Willow said, cheerily flipping the cake. “Hey, plates?”

Buffy pointed to a corner cabinet and while Willow balanced three plates and tumblers, she continued to talk. “I mean, the spell seems decently made, as far as those things go, but you can only benefit from the magic you pour into these things and she’s chucking them out like she’s a one-woman factory. There’s just limitations to that kind of stuff, no matter how good of a witch you are.”

Buffy leaned against the counter and watched Willow fetch orange juice from the fridge. “I don’t know, Will, those things seemed pretty effective to me.”

“Yeah, well, that may be ‘cause you don’t have your own witch handy. One word from me shouldn’t have caused all those amulets to give up the fight so easily. The Gem of Amara was made by a whole coven of witches. So it’s not even about the spell, which, by the way, seems to be a rip-off because the spell that created the Gem of Amara is still lost, by all accounts, and I know a lot of accounts.”

Buffy nodded to the mess of herbs and powders on her kitchen table. “Were you able to replicate the knock-off spell?”

Willow plated the third pancake and headed there herself. “You just had to rub it in, didn’t you? I think I got close, but honestly, it would help to have Giles around. He has research I just don’t have access to.”

“I smell pancakes not burning.” Faith walked down the hall, scrubbing her hair with a towel before throwing it back behind her. The scent of pineapples hung in the air. “That must mean someone saved Buffy from the stove, and more importantly, salvaged breakfast.” She swung her leg over the closest chair just as Willow set a plate at it, grabbed the fork, and dug in as if nothing was wrong.

Willow raised her eyebrow but didn’t comment. “So can I ask Giles to come?” she asked Buffy instead, grabbing her own chair.

Buffy stayed at the counter. She didn’t want to be rude, especially since Willow finished breakfast when she gave up on it, but her stomach swam at the sight of food. Or maybe it was just Willow’s words. “I’m surprised he isn’t already here. I suppose the whole gang knows where I am now.” But she was suddenly genuinely uncomfortable. Because why _hadn’t_ the rest of them come? Faith must have only asked for Willow. The rest of them chose not to go with her, which must mean they didn’t really want to. Not even _Dawn._

Faith was watching her intently when she looked back up, but quickly went back to her food.

Willow frowned and shifted uncomfortably, but that just have been the flimsy kitchen chairs the old lady next door had given her when she moved out. “You know Giles. You’ve been gone for years. He figured you needed the space for a reason, and he was reluctant to impose on it.”

Buffy nodded, but that explanation didn’t exactly help. “If he doesn’t want to come, I’m sure you guys could—or I could leave—”

Faith had finished off her pancake and reached for Buffy’s untouched plate, rolling her eyes. “It’s too early in the morning for your martyr act, B.”

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Fine. Call him up. Call everyone up.”

“Are you guys really this hard up for an audience for your domestic tiffs?” Willow asked.

“All right you guys, are you done beating up on me? Because you can be mad at me all you want for screwing everything up, Will, but it’s going to be hard, and there’s nothing I can do about that but be really, really sorry. And you—” She turned to Faith, then sighed. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. I realize I screw up everything. I’m terrible and a mess and I can’t help myself. What can I say?”

“See what I deal with,” Faith told Willow. “I just wanted to eat my pancakes in peace.”

Willow shook her head and stood. “Apparently, I need to extricate myself from this situation. I’m going to pop into the library. Good luck.”  

Faith sat at the table, two empty plates in front of her, one knee hiked up as she stared. “You’ve got nothing?” she said finally.

Buffy shrugged. “I’ve got nothing.”

With a flourish, Faith pushed the chair back from the table. “Guess I’ll be out for a while.” 

When the door closed, Buffy turned back to the tiny window over the sink and watched Faith bound down the stairs two at a time, then cross the yard. She looked down at her fingers, which were gripping the edge of the counter so hard they had turned white.  

After all of that mess and with the prospect of Dawn, Xander, and Giles soon on the horizon, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. But really, she had lost her job. The only investment she had was a one-week relationship with Faith that was already breaking down, and a complicated night of awkwardness and a little catch-up with Willow. The sun-amulet ring posed a problem, but Buffy had been retired for five years and the world hadn’t ended because of it. 

Faith had disappeared down the street and around the corner. The yard was empty and clear, the sun shining bright, and the thought of just abandoning all of this, of leaving this impending disaster behind, was tempting and so real she could reach out and touch it. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of some mostly self-contained, but loosely-connected stories titled, "The After Life". The series ignores the end of Angel, as well as any post Buffy season 7 canon, so it's a bit of an AU. 
> 
> I apologize for the long hiatus between parts. In truth, I'm not sure how happy I am with this entry, but I thought I needed to stop fussing with it at some point and simply post. I know the ending is left unresolved; this is because the next part of the series, instead of being another standalone, will act more as a direct sequel to this part. 
> 
> Thank you so, so much for all the kudos, support, and especially comments. Your comments on my other entries have been amazing, and definitely inspire me to write more. I seriously cannot thank you enough for reading.


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